


Two Drifters Off To See The World

by hariboo



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-16 02:05:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13626276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hariboo/pseuds/hariboo
Summary: Post a fight, Fjord and Caleb sit by a river and have a moment. Also there are injuries.





	Two Drifters Off To See The World

**Author's Note:**

> so this is happening.

Fjord wipes his hands clean in the river; the blood finally gone. It had crusted under his fingernails, brown and smelling of rust. Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to take that short cut, he thinks, but that’s in the past now. Can’t do much about it anymore and what's important is that they’re all alive. It’s all he can ask for. Sighing, he scoops up some more water. It’s cool against his hands, feeling like home, and he slashes it on his face. It feels good. A part of him yearns, another part of him shakes of the memories of the water clogging his throat. 

That’s when he catches Caleb’s figure at the edges of the river, lean, slick, and bloody. He’s sitting on some rocks, feet in the water, splashing his own face with water. He smiles at the sight of him and how he usually keeps pretending he still doesn’t bathe or shower for Nott’s sake and Jester’s amusement. But Fjord has caught the scent of flowery oils and clean soap more than once from the man. Tonight, it’s not about comfort or jokes that Caleb’s by the river, Fjord knows too well. Slowly, he wades over, his toes curling into the wet dirt by the bank, letting the other man take note of him. Caleb tilts his head up at him as he approaches. A grimace flits across his lips. Fjord recognises Caleb’s many smiles by now that’s his smile when he’s pain. And ain’t it a sad fact he’s seen that smile a lot?

He does so wish that Caleb would get some armour, but the man insist on keeping to his coat. 

“Caleb,” he says, soft; softer than usual. The night calls for it. The river flows gentle between them. “Need a hand?”

It’s always best to ask with Caleb first. Spooks like a cat, sometimes, but he’ll answer as honestly as he feels he’s able too. They all carry enough secrets between them to fill a library. Except maybe Jester, and even then, Fjord has seen that look in her eyes when something in her memory catches up to her. Caleb is not a fan of lying, but he’s careful with himself, with Nott, and his secrets. All his answers are measured. (Beau always shrugs off any question, Molly dances aways from them, Jester answers them or forgets to, Nott tries to not too but is strangely the most honest of out of all them, Yasha looks away. Fjord, himself, thinks he’s most like Caleb. He’ll answer what he can, and what he won’t stays carefully hidden between half truths.) 

Caleb sighs, weariness covering his shoulders better than his coat. Pain flickers in the corners of his eyes. In the pale light of the moons the lines around them, usually making him look distinguished, only heighten how tired he is. “Yes, thank you, Fjord.” He shifts his shirt off. “I can’t get to the ones on my back and Jester is exhausted.” 

They had all insisted she heal up Nott and Molly first, the most injured. Beau had taken the last healing potion. Fjord and Jester kept relatively unharmed, and Caleb. Well, he’d never let himself be healed before Nott, before any of them, Fjord had begun to notice. Unless Nott insisted or Jester realised it wasn’t time for quips.

Looking back over to the camp, Fjord glances at their companions. They’re a bit aways from the river bank, a small fire lighting the edges of the forest, but Fjord can see Jester sleeping and Nott curled up near her. Nott’s taken to sleeping between Jester and Caleb. When Yasha’s around, sometimes, she slides closer to her. It’s sweet. 

Fjord nods and takes the healing salve they bought a couple towns back. It’s cheaper than potions and it works in a pinch when Jester’s tapped out. It takes longer and it doesn’t fix up the scars, but hey, they might not be beggars but they sure ain’t choosers. 

“Here, turn,” Fjord says gentle as he can. He watches Caleb swallow. They might be companions but beside Nott, for obvious reasons, Caleb is very modest about showing his body. Fjord thinks he understands better why now. There’s a group of scars that runs down his shoulder like claw marks. He’s has seen them before — Jester had to close up a wound on Caleb’s ribs, his shirt ripped to tatters. _Too often_ , Fjord thinks, _he gets hurts too often_ and is angry at the world for the fact. He never asked about them, but he’s got ideas. 

Caleb turns, however, almost to Fjord’s surprise even though he knows the man trusts him. He faces the river and now it’s Fjord’s turn to swallow. From what he can see in the dusky sky, Caleb’s back is freckled and the scar from his shoulders swipes all the way down diagonally across it to his opposite outer ribs. Fjord is almost afraid to touch the them, but Caleb’s new wounds overlap them. It hurts to see both sets and all the other scars across Caleb’s body. Fjord is not stranger to wounds and battle, but there’s something about Caleb that he feels should be sheltered and safe. Maybe in a library. 

Covering his hands with the salve, he smoothes his hands over Caleb’s wounds careful and slow. Caleb tenses at the first touch, but then he slowly relaxes. He sighs under Fjord’s ministrations. His head lolls forward. Fjord resists the urge to comb his fingers through the hair that brushed Caleb’s neck. Swallowing again, he focuses on his task. When the wounds are well coated Fjord begins to cover them in the bandages they’ve also stocked up on. Caleb stays silent throughout the process, but his breath evens out as Fjord works. It makes Fjord feel somewhat special, he’s not gonna lie. That Caleb, someone so careful with himself and his trust, leaves himself so open under Fjord’s hands is something to cherish. It's understood without being told. It’s not that Caleb isn’t kind or warm, you only have to watch him with Nott, but it took him weeks to let himself relax in their makeshift group. Under Fjord’s hands he’s completely languid. 

“You have very strong hands,” Caleb murmurs, then starts. His head lifts and Fjord watches how his neck muscle tense up. He says nothing (yet). “Um—I mean. Well, you’re very good at this.”

“Technically, I think Jester’s stronger than me.” Fjord bites down his grin, keeping the moment light. 

Caleb laughs. “She is the cleric.”

“That she is,” Fjord says, softly. He runs his tongue over his incisors and hums. “I— You learn a lot of things at sea. Most of them are nine hells on your hands. They have to be strong— Stronger than you are, sometimes.” 

“A pirates life for you, then?” Caleb wonders. His tone aims for lightness. He almost misses the mark, but Fjord appreciates the gesture, because, oh, if only he knew how close to the mark he was. 

“Something like that…” He lets the end of the sentence drift away like the river is. “You feeling better?” He finishes up wrapping up the wounds. Reminds himself to learn a healing spell or two. 

He lets (makes) himself slide way and sits a bit aways from Caleb. It’s harder than he wishes it were. He leans back on his hands and watches the river.

Caleb sits back up and pulls on his shirt with a wince. It’s still torn up, but Fjord’s seen him use a spell to fix up his and Nott’s clothes sometimes. He’ll probably do it in the morning. Fjord would offer to mend it for him otherwise. He looks over his shoulder at Fjord and shifts over. He touches his knee and smiles. Fjord is sure if it wasn’t for his Darkvision he wouldn’t be able to see it. 

“Better than I’ve been in ages, thank you. You’re a true gentleman, Fjord.”

Thank the gods Caleb can’t see how that’s probably tinged his cheeks dark green.

“Ain’t nothing, Caleb,” he says, quiet. He presses his arm against Caleb’s. “We all look out for each other, don’t we? That’s how this works.”

“Yeah, that’s how this works.” He sounds wry and fond. He sounds like the Caleb he’s come to know. “I guess I should take my watch now. Feel like keeping me company?”

Fjord could say many things now and all of them Caleb would accept. He says the only thing that he wants to.

“Two sets of eyes are better than one.” He slides closer to Caleb. 

“Three if you count Frumpkin.” Caleb’s hand stay on his knee, solid and warm.

Fjord laughs, “‘Course.”

He thinks about how Caleb uses touch to ground himself when he goes into Frumpkin. Right now he’s not looking through his familiar’s eyes, but keeps his hand on Fjord. Fjord feels as if Caleb is not only keeping himself the moment, but he’s keeping Fjord in it too. It’s been a long time since Fjord’s felt as if there’s someplace in the world that he can safely weigh anchor and let the ocean swirl around him. Tonight it feels like he’s found the closest thing to it in a while.


End file.
